No More Lonely Nights
by AllGoodChildrenGoToHeaven
Summary: Paul McCartney is thinking back on his time with John. McLennon. Maybe there is some swear words here and there. I'm trying to keep it as soft as possible.
1. Chapter 1

As I open the door to enter the rooftop of my house in London, it hits me that I'm lonely. Not lonely like "My wife's away tonight, my doggie died, I think I'll be ordering some pizza", more like "My best friend died four years ago, and I'm broken, but I can't tell anybody. My wife left me for my ex-friend, this lad called Richard Starkey. I've got so much to do but the only thing I seem to be doing is feeling bad for myself". That's the kind of emptiness I'm feeling.  
I sit down next to the door, knowing that I'm the only person in this building. If I end up doing something to myself, no one will know before the papers begin to ask the big questions. "What happened to McCartney?" I don't want my fans to think I'm unstable. Because I know I am. I mean, anyone can see. I've let my beard grow for about four years; I haven't shaved since the day John died, and I'm not planning to, either. I'm a bit scared of the razor, to be honest.  
I take a short zip of the coffee I brought with me, not directly liking the bitter taste of the liquid, but I didn't have any more tea left. What exactly happened in the late 50's?

_I looked out of the window, the haze was thick, and it was pouring down with rain. Because Mimi was going away somewhere _– I don't remember what she went away for_ – I was going to a sleepover with John, and I was really looking forward to it.  
"Are you packed already, son?" I hadn't noticed that my father had come into the room because I was busy looking out of the window._

_ "Yeh … I think I'll be leaving in five minutes or so. Where's Mike?" I turned around, and my eyes met my father's. _

_"He's at a friend's as well, I don't think he'll be home before it gets dark outside. Were you waiting to say goodbye to your little brother, son?"_

_ "Sort of," I admitted, and looked at my wristwatch. Five minutes past six. I'd better go. "Well, take care, father. I'll see ye' tomorrow."  
_

I smiled a little at the memory. I still remember that night as it was yesterday – everything we did was new to me back then.

_ Even though Mimi's house wasn't far from my own house, I was soaking wet when I finally knocked at the door. My hair was a total mess, and I was regretting the fact that I did not bring my umbrella.  
The door opened, and John stuck his head out. "Hello."  
"Hello."  
We stood there for a moment in an awkward silence, but when I started shivering, he opened the door a little wider and let me in.  
We went up to his room where Mimi had prepared a little "bed" for me, and I sat my guitar in the corner, next to John's. "So …"_

_"Yeah …" John fell onto the bed, hands behind his neck. I sat down on the bed-like thing Mimi had created, but it was quite uncomfortable. We sat there for a while, talking, and suddenly John turned around on the bed, lying on his stomach with his head about five cm from mine. _

_"You know, Paul … I think I've got a very bad influence on ya'." I smiled weakly, and shook my head._

_ "No, you just gave me a social life."_

_ "What about Ivan? Did you just say that he wasn't your friend?"_

_ "No! That's not what I'm saying," I quickly responded, and looked right into his eyes. "But this is different from Ivan. He's just a lad from school …" John laughed quietly, and smiled. "I understand what you mean. I guess it's the same thing as me and Stu-," I remember that I didn't want him to fully the sentence, because I knew that I was loosing my courage. I leaned in and kissed his thin lips. What I didn't expect was the fact that he kissed me back. He stroked his hand through my hair, which was still wet from the little walk I had earlier that night.  
He pulled back, and looked into my eyes. I had never kissed someone like that before. Of course I had kissed a few birds, but none of them like I had just kissed John. I had just kissed John. John. That's a boy's name. Did that mean I was queer? _

_ The boy in front of me grinned a cheeky grin._

_ "You're queer."_

_"I'm not! You're the queer."_

_"No? You're the one who kissed me!"_

_"You're the one who kissed back!"_

_Silence. Then be both burst into laughter, and I yanked myself into the bed, lying there next to him. We didn't say anything for a moment, just lied there next to each other, starring at the sealing. The room got dark, and because John's room was in the 2nd floor, we could hear the raining on the outside from the bed.  
John scooped a little closer, but I didn't mind. I just held him close, his head into my chest. Then he started unbuttoning my shirt. What was he doing?  
Then I felt his lips on my neck, kissing their way to my cheekbone. I blushed, and closed my eyes. He kissed my lips once again, I still didn't move. Well, that's a lie, because I did move. I placed my hands on his hips, and opened my mouth a little to let his tounge in. He stroked his hands over my upper body, and a soft moan escaped my lips without me noticing. That's when he pulled back._

_ "Told ya'," he said, "I said you were the queer."_

_ I sighed, and noticed that he had a growing erection himself. _

_"Whatever. I'll be queer if that's so bloody important to you," I said._

_ "Queer Paulie," he murmured, and covered my body with his once again. _

_"And you're saying I'm queer because I wanted to kiss you, but calling a lad **"Paulie"** does make you straight? You don't make much sense." I knew John nodded, even though I could not see it through of the darkness in the room. _

_ "Maybe I don't."_

_ "Maybe …" He stroked his hand through my hair, fully aware of the fact that it made me smile. _

_"Is little Paulie …" he placed his hand over my crotch, and I bit my lip to make sure not to moan again. _

_"Please fully the sentence?"_

_ "I don't know, but maybe little Paulie wants his Johnny to make love to him?" I knew he meant it. John could be ironic sometimes, but when it came to sex and pleasure, he was damn serious._

_ "Yes, he does," I answered, my voice shaking._

_ "Is Paulie admitting that he's the queer?"_

_ "Yes, Paulie is admitting that he is the queerest of us."_

_ "Did he just call his Johnny queer, too?" _

_ "Yes, I believe he did." _

_ There was another silence in the bedroom, until I unbuttoned John's shirt and made him unbuckled his belt. _

_We shared another passionate kiss. His hands running through my hair. My hands resting on his shoulders. I just felt so safe, like nothing was ever going to harm me again, ever. He was my soldier; he was there to protect me. _

_ I felt his hand caressing my body, stroking down my stomach and he touched my erection. I remember being hard as never before, I was just fifteen, and I wasn't really a big fan of touching myself. I mean, I was never alone at home, and the thought of Mike or my father running into me while I was … it was just terrifying. I looked up at John for a second; before he leaned down to kiss my neck again. Oh god, it all felt so perfect. This time, I didn't even bother to hold back any of the moans I knew would come.  
I didn't know where John had learned all these things, but to be honest; I didn't really care, either._

_ "Oh, keep on doing that … Mhm …" John grinned._

_ "Do ye like that, Paulie? Do ye want yer Johnny to make ye come?" _


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer; I do not own The Beatles. Thanks to my beta-reader, HasARubberSoul.**

* * *

I sighed, and looked down at my coffee. It had turned cold while I was thinking. Just like the old days, really.

I tilted my head backwards and looked up at the sky. Everything was so much better back then. Even though what we did was illegal, it was all worth it in the end. Sadly, I'll never know if it really was worth it, because soon John got to know this Asian bird. Not that I'm racist, I'm really not. What I didn't like about her was that she stole him from me. She took my man. She was 10 bloody years older than him! She was a single mother!

No, the best years were before Yoko, after we moved from Liverpool. Sgt. Pepper was good. It was easier to hide our love after we'd stopped touring and even though John was an emotional wreck, he had his moments – the moments he acted as if he were my angel.

_It was late in the evening, and George and Ringo had gone home for the day. John and I were still in the studio, fooling around with our guitars, trying to come up with some good lyrics._  
_"You were perfect today," John said quietly, eyes still on the sheet of paper he was trying to write something on. I looked at him for a second and took a moment to drink it all in; his brown eyes, his long nose, his thin lips topped by the sexy moustache, his perfect neck, which I longed to kiss. I looked a bit at his stomach, before his crotch caught my interest. Looking at him, I started remembering all the things we'd done, and I licked my lips before looking down at the sheet. We were writing some kind of intro-song. I was the one who really wanted it to be that way, like we weren't The Beatles but a completely different band – Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I thought it was quite funny, but John wasn't really a big fan of the idea.  
"What do you think of this?"_  
_"Of what?"_  
_"We're Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, we hope you will enjoy the show. We're Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, sit back and let the evening go …"_  
_John nodded and kissed my cheek.  
"That sounds good. Do we have to get this one done today?"  
He looked at me with his puppy dog eyes, but they didn't work on me anymore. If I had given in for those eyes, we would still be four Liverpool lads who thought they made a good sound, playing in different clubs. No, we were getting too old for that. I'd probably be a teacher and John would most likely be in jail._

_As I returned to my writing again, I noticed he was looking at me. But he wasn't looking at my eyes… something lower had caught his interest. Maybe he was looking at my lips? No, he wasn't looking at them anymore. He was looking at my crotch – the same thing I had done to him earlier.I ran my hand through my hair, trying to concentrate._  
_"Sit back and let the evening go…," I mused. _  
_"If you're having a hard time, Macca, you should try 'yeah yeah yeah', you know, it has helped us a lot before, and…"  
I didn't let him fully finish the sentence._  
_"Shut up, Lennon, this album won't be like the earlier ones! We've grown; our fans are not the same!"_  
_"I think they sound the same as ever," he mumbled, and rose to his feet, "Well, I'm going out for a smoke."_  
_"Would you like me to come with you?"_  
_"Yes, that'd be lovely, darling."  
I got up and found my cigarettes, and then we both went to the rooftop._

_We stood there, smoking our cigarettes in silence. When John had finished his, he threw it over the edge of the building into the city of London. Even though he knew it wouldn't go far, he threw it like it was a football. Wait, Paul. People don't throw footballs. They kick them. When he got back from the edge, I could feel my heart rate slow down a little. He grinned and got closer… and closer. He pushed me against the wall, making me drop my ciggie. I was more than willing, looked me in the eyes, and kissed the tip of my nose._  
_"Don't try to be romantic, it doesn't suit you well," I murmured.  
He grinned cheekily before he leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Whatever you want, sexy."  
A shiver ran through me – a combination of the cool air on the rooftop and the man in front of me trying to seduce me – and I bit my lower lip._  
_"You know, I've already planned what we're going to do tonight, Paulie," he whispered, and playfully he bit my earlobe, which he knew was one of my weaknesses. I didn't let any of the moans escape my throat this time, though. He'd just make fun of me afterwards._  
_"What are you going to do?" I whispered and bit my lip once again when he started sucking on a sweet spot on my neck._  
_"If I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it?"_

_He pulled back, leaving a solid red mark on my neck which I couldn't see, but I was sure Linda would see it as soon as I got home that night. I didn't care, though. She was just a woman. Not that I didn't love her, because I did love her… like a friend. Not like the way I loved John Winston Lennon.  
"What if I don't want this bloody little surprise of yours?"  
"Then I'll go find George," he said and left me standing there, leaning onto the wall with a growing erection.  
"No, don't! I'm much better than George, I swear!" I shouted as I ran after him.  
Not that he'd ever fuck George; the lad wasn't even queer. George would never let himself get fucked by a man – and John would never cheat on me._

_I caught up with him, in the middle of the hallway between two studios, and I somehow made him stop. He just looked at me, arms crossed over his chest and the weight of his body balanced perfectly on his left foot.  
"And?" he playfully taunted, raising one eyebrow.  
"Don't you dare fuck Harrison," I unsteadily ordered.  
"I won't Macca, I won't. You're my one and only."  
He smiled and I kissed him. When we pulled back, he grinned and looked at me with his black eyes full of lust.  
"Do you still want to finish the song tonight?" he asked.  
I sighed and looked at the studio door before looking back at my boyfriend again. Did I really have to finish that song today?  
"Macca, please… I need you. I want to be inside you. I want to touch you, taste you and make love to you like I've never done before…" he leaned in and kissed my neck again. I let out a little sigh and pulled him closer.  
"No, I don't have to finish it today. If you promise me you'll take it seriously tomorrow," I bargained._

_I now noticed that he had unbuckled my belt, and that his hands were actually inside my pants, touching my hardness.  
"Mhm, John… keep doing that, ah…" I didn't care about holding back my moans anymore. As long as John kept on touching me like this, I knew I would never make it through quietly. I felt his hot breath on my neck, and his hands really knew what to do. That was one of the better things with making love to a lad, really. Birds never knew what to do with their hands because they'd never had a penis themselves.  
"Shh, Macca, you've got to be quiet, people may hear you," he whispered in my ear seductively, his hands moving faster and faster. How could he expect me to be quiet? I was the goddamn vocalist of this group!  
"Please, Paulie, you've got to be quiet."  
I moaned loudly and he quickly yanked his hands away from my dick.  
"Oh my god, Paul," he sighed.  
I really could not believe my eyes. He had stopped. He knew I would be there any moment.  
"Please, John, please, finish me… I… I can't, I'm so… I need you," I complained, but he just ignored me. I didn't know what to do.  
"I said you have to be quiet, princess," he disciplined.  
"Let's… get into the studio; no one will hear us in there."_

_And we did. We got into the studio, where he pressed me up against a wall. _I really can't remember how we ended up on the floor, but … _He got on top of me, and kept on caressing my length with his hand. He was hard himself, but he actually had control for once. And I liked it that way. I wanted him to dominate me. I came, and it didn't really look like John cared too much about it. He knew I'd be hard again soon, that it wasn't too important. The hours of the night were long anyway. He kissed my neck again – I was already moaning. When you looked at him, you could never expect that his lips were that soft, but they really were._


End file.
